Splintered Silence
by Celtic Dancer
Summary: Private Investigator Danny Avery receives an anonymous call from a woman afraid for her life. When all of his suspects start dying mysteriously, can he get to the bottom of things before it's too late?


**Chapter One**

_"You can't tell anyone I'm alive."_

_Private Investigator Danny Avery leaned forward in his chair, pressing the phone to his ear. The woman's voice crackled as the reception faded. He shifted his considerable bulk and the chair squeaked in protest._

_"Hello? Miss? Are you still there?"_

_There were a few seconds of silence before she responded. "Yes, yes I'm here. Sorry, I had to…distance myself from someone."_

_Danny frowned, creasing his pale, freckled brow. "Are you all right, Miss? If it would make you feel safer, you can come up to my office and-"_

_"No! No, I can't be seen there. Listen. I haven't got much time. A package will arrive with the morning post tomorrow. Everything you need is included. Now, I really have to go."_

_"Wait, Miss? Hello?"_

* * *

Danny let the conversation run through his mind once more, elbows on his desk, cradling his head in his hands. He turned and stared at the old phone as though he expected it to ring any minute. The call had come less than two hours ago; he had spent the entire time since staring off into space and ignoring his pager.

With a sigh, the private investigator rubbed his tired eyes as the light struggling through the blinds faded. The sun cast splashes of color across the clouded sky as it sank behind the Manhattan skyline, but the golden hues went unnoticed by Danny Avery. The clock on the corner of his desk read 5:52 as he stood to close the blinds.

He paused for a moment, staring out across the city from his office on the twelfth floor. The city was slowly waking from the hibernation it had undergone just after Christmas. Danny leaned his head against the window; the touch of the cold glass was soothing on his fevered brow.

Manhattan was slowly coming to life as lights flickered on and the evening commute began. Danny shrugged on his coat and grabbed his briefcase before leaving the office. As he locked the door behind him, he noticed a thick envelope lying next to the doorframe. He looked down the hall in both directions but saw no one. Slipping on a pair of gloves from his pocket, he bent to pick it up and turned it over in his hands. He saw no writing on it other than his name on the front, printed in capital letters.

Carefully, Danny laid the manila envelope inside his briefcase and hurried to the stairs. His own paranoia, coupled with mild claustrophobia, led him to avoid elevators if possible.

_Besides_, he thought as he jogged down flight after flight, _a little exercise never hurt anyone_.

After an extended stay in the hospital a few years ago, Danny was more conscious than ever of the damage that he had inflicted on his body. He had since changed his eating habits, and recently, his size was due more to muscle mass than to rolls of fat around his middle. At six-foot-three, Danny stood just over average height, but his daily trips to the gym made his size more considerable.

A gust of cold air struck him from the side as he exited the office building, and he drew his coat more tightly around him. It was unusually cold for mid-January, and the biting wind pushed the temperature still further.

The sun had completely set by the time Danny reached the front steps of the New York Police Department, but the building was overflowing with men and women in uniform. The receptionist inside greeted Danny by name as he passed her and headed to the back of the main room. He waited outside the large office in the corner as the woman behind its glass walls shouted on the telephone.

She slammed the phone down on her desk and planted her hands on her hips. As she looked up, she caught sight of Danny and grinned, waving him inside. Danny smiled back and settled into a chair opposite her. He and the chief had known each other for years, and they often helped each other out with difficult cases.

"Where've you been, Danny?" she asked, sitting on the desk.

"Oh, you know. Busy." He smirked and opened his briefcase on his lap. "Listen, Maggie, I need a favor."

Margaret Porter stood and sighed. "I should have known it was business. Don't you ever drop by just to say hello any more?"

Danny shrugged in apology and offered her the envelope. Maggie grabbed a pair of gloves from a box on her desk and took the package from him, raising an eyebrow.

"I assume you want this dusted for prints?" At a nod from the detective, she tucked it under one arm. "I'm on my way over to forensics anyway. I'll put a rush on it for you."

"Thanks, Maggie. You're the best."

"I know, Mr. Avery, I know. You owe me one!" she called over her shoulder as she left.

Stretching, Danny rose to his feet and grabbed his briefcase. He realized he was alone in Maggie's office but, strangely, didn't feel any overwhelming desires to poke around. The receptionist nodded at him again as he passed her on his way outside, where a light, misty rain had begun to fall. Danny pulled on the collar of his jacket as rainwater trickled down his neck. He shivered and jogged across the street, dodging traffic and blinking icy droplets out of his eyes. The subway station was blissfully empty; the commute home had since ended and Manhattan's inhabitants were either settling in for the night or out partying. Danny shared a subway car with a man reading a newspaper and a homeless woman who spent the entire trip muttering to herself.

At his stop, Danny hurried out of the station and back outside into the rain, which had intensified into a veritable downpour. He held his briefcase over his head as he ran the three blocks to his apartment building. Walking past the elevator inside, he shook his damp hair out of his eyes and headed up three flights of stairs to his apartment on the fourth floor. The hallway was deserted; many of Danny's neighbors were out roaming the streets and the nearby clubs.

Once inside, a flashing light on the answering machine caught his attention. He hit the button as he shrugged off his coat and dropped the briefcase on the table.

_"Hi Danny, it's me. Call me when you get in, would you? I have something I need your opinion on. I'll see you later. Love you."_

He smiled at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. Bridget was a private consultant for the NYPD. They had been introduced almost a year ago when Danny's help was enlisted and they worked a case together. He had first fallen in love with her British accent, and they had been together ever since.

The machine beeped and moved on to the next message.

_"Daniel Avery!"_ Danny cringed as his mother's distraught voice filled the room. _"I haven't heard from you in almost a month! Just where on earth have you been, young man? Honestly, you'd think I raised you better! If I thought that one day my son would end up like this I–"_ Danny cut the message short partway through his mother's tirade. Every message was the same. He made a mental note to call her the next day before she decided to visit.

As water boiled in the kettle on the stove and Danny spooned coffee into a mug, the answering machine played back the last recorded message. Danny stopped, hand poised above the kettle, listening.

_"Good evening Mr. Avery."_ It was the woman who had called him that afternoon. He moved closer to the machine and raised an eyebrow. _"Certain…circumstances prevented the delivery of the package tomorrow morning. It was necessary that it be delivered today. I presume it arrived all right and is currently in your possession? I will be in contact with you shortly. Please, don't tell anyone that I've spoken to you."_

Danny played the message again and frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. The woman's voice seemed vaguely familiar to him now that he had heard it again, but he just couldn't place it. He took the kettle off the stove and poured boiling water into his mug, stirring it idly with a spoon as his thoughts remained on the mystery caller.

He ambled over to the table, still stirring his coffee, and settled down in a chair. Danny pulled his briefcase towards him and twirled the wheels of the built-in lock until it clicked. He opened the briefcase and stared at the papers inside, wishing he had the envelope in front of him. He decided to stop by the NYPD headquarters the following day to see if Maggie had scanned for prints yet. He knew that there was a severe backlog of cases, but he also knew that Maggie would put a rush on the envelope for him.

Pouring most of his untouched coffee down the sink, Danny shuffled to his bedroom and slipped into bed. He remembered Bridget's message just before he fell asleep and reached over to the phone on the nightstand. He dialed her home number and waited; she picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Bridget? It's Danny."

"Oh hi! Did you get my message?"

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"Nothing major, really. I just wanted your input on a job offer I'm considering."

"A job offer? Don't tell me you're considering a career change!"  
"No, nothing like that. I've been requested as a consultant on a case for the NYPD."

"Must be some case for you to be deliberating this much. I though you took cases for the NYPD all the time!"

"I do, but this one is not quite like the others. Can I meet you for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Sure; I'll come pick you up."

"Why don't I just swing by your place tomorrow? I'll cook something."

Danny grinned; he loved Bridget's cooking almost as much as he loved her. "That sounds amazing. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well; I love you."

"I love you too, Danny."


End file.
